“What the fuck?”

A man in his thirties, completely ordinary by any standards, shot out of his seat at his desk. He clutched his head, reeling in pain.

He’d lost connection with his firebug. He could telepathically send it out to keep tabs on people, but for some reason the feed had suddenly been severed.

All he’d seen was darkness at the very end. Like it’d been squished instantly. But there’d been no signs of any threat in Suho’s dorm. There was a dog, but…

The man cursed. What kind of dog could eat a firebug? They were magic beasts that would explode on contact. The dog’s face would be blown off before the feed could disconnect.

“…It must be National’s fault,” he muttered to himself.

The only explanation he could think up was that the national academy had some sort of magic-disrupting barrier around it. The bug hadn’t died, the connection had just been broken. Even that idea wasn't realistic, though. No human technology could combat his powers. Not yet anyway.

“Okay.”

He took a deep breath, ignoring the pain still reeling through his head.

The disconnection was probably temporary. But he still needed to continue his mission. If Suho’s firebug was out of commission, then he’d just switch targets. There were plenty more suspicious people to look into.

The sights and sounds of Seoul honked and bustled by below his high-rise apartment’s window. The human world. It was lush and busy.

And it was free for the taking.

He raised his hand and gathered mana. His hair turned a bright, fiery red, and his eyes became gold. The false colors he used to blend in here melted totally away as a second firebug began to form in his palm.

It buzzed its wings, testing out its new body.

One day this planet would belong to new rulers.

Step one was tracking down all possible anomalies—and that meant finding the traitors from their side who had hidden themselves among the populace here on Earth. They knew at least one was here in Korea. And they were getting close.

The man cracked his window open. In a flash, the firebug was gone—heading back to National.

The traitor was somewhere in that school.

“…All for the good of Múspell.”

His eyes and hair returned to black.

He shut the window and headed inside.

⊕

The first 2-4 homeroom of the year was wrought with tension. For everybody except the culprits causing it, of course.

Yuna sat alone in the back row, every seat within a ten foot radius around her empty. In their first year, many students had tried to kiss up to her—her family’s money was hugely tempting, after all. But her cold glares were something else. It became clear quickly that she had not come to school to make friends. It was the same even now. Every time anybody tried to take one of the seats, she shot them a look of pure annoyance, and they quickly scuttled off.

On the complete opposite side of the room, Suho was sitting dead center in the front row, notebooks ready, the image of a diligent, serious student. But just like Yuna, the cadets had never heard him say a word aside from “Hello,” “Sorry,” and “Thank you.” Starting up a conversation was next to impossible. And what made it worse was that Kitae was sitting beside him—yet another person that felt as cold as ice. His cat-like eyes were intimidating no matter what he did.

The lecturer that walked in was a huge, muscular man with tiny glasses. His face was average enough to pass for anybody’s dad, but his build was like a brick wall. He was probably a head taller than even Suho.

“Hi everyone,” he greeted with a pure smile. “I’m Kim Taehoon, A-rank. I’ll be your homeroom teacher for this year.”

There were mumbled greetings back. Some of the students had wanted to cheer—an A-rank as a teacher was a feat that was only possible at the national academy—but the weird atmosphere kept them from raising their voices too high.

Taehoon looked a little down. He had been hoping for an enthusiastic greeting, since this was his first year teaching, but perhaps he just wasn't good enough—

A hand suddenly shot up. Right in the front row.

He squinted and adjusted his glasses.

“Ah, yes, Lim Suho,” he called, reading the nametag on his uniform.

“Are you a hunter?”

For a moment, there was dead silence. And then the tension in the air finally broke with giggles from here and there at the unbelievable question.

“Um, yes, I am a hunter,” he answered. Did he not look enough like one? He needed to work out more if that was the case.

“How long have you been working as a hunter?” Suho continued, ignorant of the weird direction he’d thrown the class in. He’d only asked because not all awakened became hunters, and Auntie Jang said it wasn't nice to assume.

“I’ve been a hunter for 14 years,” Taehoon responded.

“Ooh, a veteran,” one of the girls in the second row remarked. Gates had only appeared 20 years ago.

That made him puff up a little. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

“Are you in a guild?” Suho asked, studiously noting down all of his answers.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Ah, yes, I was one of the first wave of Seoul Shield members.”

“Woah, first wave!”

The students finally seemed to loosen up, letting their thoughts of admiration out. Even for the national academy, it was hard to find veteran members of the big guilds teaching standard classes like homeroom. People with that much experience usually only showed up for special lectures—they were too busy otherwise.

“Ahem, yes, it has been a while since I joined,” Taehoon said, feeling his confidence grow bit by bit.

“Why did you come here?” a boy in a middle row asked.

“Seoul Shield receives requests to teach every year,” he explained. “We’re a civic-focused guild, so we try to participate when we can.”

“Ohhh, as expected of Seoul Shield.”

Murmurs of respect came from here and there. Taehoon smiled. He was proud of his work.

“My wife encouraged me to try, so I’m here,” he continued, scratching his neck bashfully. “I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

“Don't worry.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Taehoon smiled. The atmosphere had gotten a lot better. He glanced briefly back at Suho, who was scribbling something down in his notebook with a serious look on his face. He inwardly thanked the student for breaking the weird silence that had stretched at the beginning.

“Now that I’ve got my introduction done, let’s move on to the class’s introduction,” he said, clicking the screen on his lectern on.

A couple of mock groans echoed from around the lecture hall. He continued, putting his presentation onto the big screen behind him.

“This semester, our curriculum is going to cover…”

⊕

Despite Taehoon’s enthusiastic review of the syllabus, the cadets still left his homeroom looking exhausted. It was the same for all the homerooms across the main school building. The curriculum for the academy’s second year had been scaled up in every way from their first year, in both the amount of information and the difficulty.

Suho was one of the few who seemed unaffected, even though he had been passionately scribbling down notes the entire time. Perhaps his high stamina stat helped.

He spotted Sunghyun on his way out and made a beeline towards him, surprising the other students in the hallway.

“Good morning,” Sunghyun greeted, nodding towards him.

“Ah, good morning.”

Suho bowed his head quickly.

“All the homeroom lectures are the same, right?” he continued.

“They are,” Sunghyun replied.

“Then I have a question.”

He flipped his notebook open.

“Unit 7,” Suho said, pointing to some of his notes, unperturbed by the passing eyes, “our teacher said it was about Invasion Theory. What’s that?”

Sunghyun glanced at the handwriting, which was surprisingly neat and almost robotic.

“I don't know much about it either,” he responded. “It’s been in the news these days. They probably want to keep their curriculum up to date and added it.”

He looked back up to Suho.

“Why don't you ask Yuna?” he said. “She’s well-informed on current affairs. And she’s in your class.”

Suho pursed his lips.

“I don't think she’d like me to ask,” he replied.

Sunghyun chuckled. Indeed, that probably was the case.

“She didn't say anything to you?”

“She just glared.”

“Haha.”

He’d gotten used to it in the last year. It was a glare with nothing behind it, though. She’d never tried to do anything malicious to him, despite definitely holding deep resentment. Because she was probably a believer in success being the best revenge.

“…The trash gathers together.”

A surprisingly chipper voice barely filtered into Sunghyun’s hearing, opposite the words being uttered. His eyes flicked past Suho’s shoulder. A group of male students were gathered further down the hall, sending them looks. He knew the type. The school had more than its fair share of spoiled kids, rich kids, and kids who had never been anything but first place. Yuna was one of them. But at least she had her priorities right.

“Do orphans not know how to speak Korean like the rest of us? They can only talk to each other?”

“Seriously, they're like magnets.”

It was always the same bullshit. Sunghyun narrowed his eyes. Smiling among them, not sneering like the rest, was a lithe boy with dark red hair and piercings. Was he trying to imitate Kang Leo? He knew his face but didn't remember his name.

“What are you looking at Han Jaejin for?” Suho asked, glancing at the group of boys who’d been snickering amongst themselves. He’d heard them too, but ignored them until he noticed Sunghyun watching.

“Han—who?”

“The redhead. His name is Han Jaejin, I think.”

Sunghyun raised an eyebrow.

“Do you know him?” he asked. It would be bad if Suho did, if they'd already approached him or tried to trick him in some way because they thought he was naive—

“No.”

Suho shook his head.

“I saw his name in the student handbook. I’ve been trying to learn everybody’s names.”

Sunghyun paused for a moment, surprised. Then he sighed and smiled.

“You’re diligent as always,” he remarked.

“I have to be.”

Suho hadn't had all of last year to get to know the students he was around now. He needed to make up for that lost time somehow.

“It’s nothing,” Sunghyun finally replied. “Have you thought of joining any clubs yet?”

Suho hesitated, then chose to ignore the very obvious change in subject.

“Yeah. Cooking, handicrafts… they’re a little expensive though.”

“You have to pay?”

“For the materials. And they use overpriced stuff…”

He’d never been, but he could imagine it. The handicrafts club at the academy had to be at a different level. They probably made magic devices or something.

“What about the swordsmanship club?” he suggested. “I’m in it.”

Suho tilted his head, confused.

“Aren’t we… already learning swordsmanship in class?”

Sunghyun held back from laughing. It seemed like Suho wasn’t one to pick up a weapon unless he actually needed it.

“The regular sports clubs are fun too,” Sunghyun continued. “Soccer? Tennis? Basketball? With your height, the basketball club probably already tried to recruit you, right?”

Suho nodded.

“I rejected them. I don't do sports.”

“You didn't play back home?”

“There was no one to play with.”

“Ah.”

In a village full of elders, sports were not an option. Jun was in good enough shape to play with him, but he never had any interest. Besides, seeing a monk dunk… that was weird to even imagine.

“Then how about the volunteer club?”

That caught Suho’s attention.

“The volunteer club?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” Sunghyun replied, “they do miscellaneous work around campus, basic upkeep and stuff. Especially for the facilities that are associated but not owned by the school.”

“There are facilities not owned by the school?”

“Mhm. Mostly religious institutions. Like churches and temples and such.”

“They have temples?”

Suho had explored the campus before, but he’d never seen anything like a temple around. Nor any of the religious facilities Sunghyun had mentioned.

“Yes, there’s one,” Sunghyun said. “All of the churches and things are on the branch campus. You have to take the rail to get there.”

Suho’s eyes had widened. He hadn't expected that kind of place to exist here. In the middle of such a huge, shining, technologically advanced campus—there was something that might be a little similar to home.

“…Volunteer club,” he mumbled.

Sunghyun glanced at him and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m going to join the volunteer club.”